"Two beers, please," said the brown-eyed hulk that sat down at the bar.
"And a whiskey!" the smaller, but older-looking one added from across the room. He was chatting up Annalise, and boy would he be in for a ride if she decided to drag him home with her.
"Two beers and a whiskey," I repeated, returning the hulk's sweet smile. I placed the beverages in front of him and he slid a generous tip my way. As I reached for the cash, our hands brushed and he chuckled nervously. I didn't know why he was nervous – he was damn fine and I had half a mind to take him right here on the counter. Of course, I'd probably get fired for that and, seeing as how I also lived in the back room, would also be evicted. So instead I winked and tucked the money into my bra strap, tactfully revealing a peak at the lacy black material. I smiled triumphantly as his gaze lingered on the spot.
His eyes chivalrously returned to my knowing smile. Again the nervous laughter as he fumbled for an explanation. "I, uh… your shirt… there was something…"
"A pair of breasts?" I guessed, just as his companion returned to retrieve his drinks.
"Sammy, how many times do I have to tell you – women are not objects. This hot bartender here… has feelings. Just like that hot chick over there," he pointed to the crazy-eyed blond Annalise, "has so many feelings." He bit his bottom lip. Some people might have found it sexy, but his attitude and presence were so over-the-top that he seemed like the cartoon version of a real person. I preferred brunettes anyway.
The older one had just enough time to down his shot before his hungry partner began to drag him out of the bar by his leather jacket. "Looks like I've got other business to take care of," he smirked, allowing her to pull him off his stool.
"Be careful with this one, Annalise – if another one ends up in the hospital, it'll be your third strike!" I called after them. Her prey looked first surprised, then intrigued to the point of eagerness. I guessed he had a penchant for danger and poor decisions.
So then it was just me and the hulk. He spoke first. "Well, it looks like I've got an extra beer here. Care to join me?" Smoothe. And hell yes. I grabbed the cold bottle and took a swig.
"Sammy, is it?" I asked.
"Uh, Sam, actually," he corrected, slightly embarrassed. "That was my brother, Dean. He's… a bit of a 'live every day like it's your last' kind of guy," he said, smiling at some inside joke.
"So, then, Sam… what brings you to a small town Georgia in the dead of summer?" I had thought it would be an easy question, but he fumbled for an answer.
"Just a road trip with my brother," he settled on.
"The brother who just abandoned you in a bar in a strange town to bang a chick that'll toss him to the curb with bite marks and a weird rash?" He chuckled, but shrugged and offered no further explanation. I introduced myself and we chatted some more, but every answer about his own life sounded rehearsed and vague, so I went back to tending to my customers.
Another new guy came in – unusual for a town like this – and ordered a vodka soda. Then another, and another. When he started slurring and having to catch himself from falling off the stool, I cut him off. He was not happy.
"I'll tell you when I've had enough!" he sloshed from his sluggish mouth. Sam was already on the edge of his seat, but dealing with belligerent drunks was kind of part of the job. I could handle him.
"If you can lean down and touch your toes without falling over or throwing up, then I'll think about making you another drink," I challenged, knowing he would never make it. He started to bend over, turned a sickly shade of green, then stumbled out the side door to vomit in the alley. I wrinkled my nose up at the sound.
The rest of the night passed by rather uneventfully. Sam remained at the bar and we exchanged glances, but he never made another move. By the time it got really late, the bar had mostly cleared out. A few regulars – and Sam – stuck around, but when I rang the bell for last call, even they started to make their way to the exit. Sam thanked me for the company and hesitated. I had hoped he'd give me something – a goodbye kiss, a phone number, an orgasm – but he thought better of it and turned to follow the crowd out the door. I smiled as he had to duck under the doorframe; the bar was built at a time when people didn't come in his size.
I closed up the bar, same as always; wiped the counters, ran the dishwasher, took out the trash. When I went through the side door to the dumpster, I almost traipsed through the bile from earlier. Nearly gagging myself, I side-stepped it, threw the dumpster lid open, and tossed the bags inside.
Before the sound of the lid slamming shut could reach my ears, I found myself face down on the ground with an enormous weight on top of me. "I told you I hadn't had enough," a voice hissed from above. The drunk from earlier – I hadn't realized he was so strong, but even with the stench of liquor still heavy on his breath he overpowered me. He pulled my hair back and licked a spot on my neck, right below my ear. "You are going to taste so good," he purred, nipping lightly at the sensitive flesh. He leaned more heavily into my back, compressing all the air from my lungs.
In another instant his weight was gone and I gasped for breath. I rolled to my side and saw Sam fighting against the monster. Had he been waiting outside for me, or for the vampire he was sparring with? And just like that it all clicked – Sam was a hunter, as was his brother, which is why he wouldn't tell me about his past or why he was here. But damnit, I thought I'd gotten rid of that downtown nest. Guess I missed one.
The vampire had Sam pinned against the wall by his neck, teeth bared and preparing to chow down. I pushed myself off the pavement and picked up the sword that Sam must have dropped in the struggle. Just before his fangs made contact, and in one swift horizontal slice, I fully separated the creature's head from its body.
Sam choked as his lungs refilled, eyes darting between me and the dead vampire. "Did you…? You just… Are you…?" He shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around this unexpected turn of events.
"Former," I explained. "Family business." Not that there was anything left of my family anymore. "Got out a long time ago," I explained, handing him back his weapon. He had a gash across his cheek and his lip was split, but he just continued to gape at me like I was a unicorn. I sighed. "You're bleeding. I live right back there – let's get you patched up." I grabbed his giant hand and practically dragged him to the small apartment.
It was strictly business of course – hunter's code and all – but I still felt a small thrill at seeing this beautiful man taking up the majority of my tiny couch. I got out my first aid kit and sterilized the cuts. He barely even seemed to register the action, but judging from the many scars, I assumed he'd been through much, much worse.
My fingers traced several vertical cuts along his forearm and he the feather-light touch raised goosebumps across his flesh. I didn't know how long I spent touching him like that – definitely an inappropriately lengthy amount – but when I glanced back up into his chocolate eyes they were hungry, and he crashed his lips into mine.
First aid quickly forgotten, I wrapped my arms around his neck and straddled his lap. His large hands explored my back, thumb periodically flicking the clasp to my bra. "Don't you at least want to see it first before you take it off?" I gasped when we came up for air. I happened to be wearing my good lingerie tonight – thank god everything comfortable and convenient was dirty – and I was damn sure gonna show it off.
I untangled myself from Sam and trotted to the bedroom, beckoning him to follow (though he didn't need the encouragement). I kicked off my boots, shrugged out of the wide-neck top, and shimmied out of my skinny jeans, revealing a see-through lacy bra with matching black thong. He practically tackled me to the bed, quickly removing the thin fabric that I had been so proud of a moment ago; now I couldn't care less.
I unbuttoned his flannel shirt and pushed it off his broad shoulders, tossing it to the floor. We broke our seemingly continuous kiss to pull his undershirt over his head, throwing it to the side to join his flannel. I marveled at his chiseled physique – traced the planes of his muscles and the outline of the protection tattoo on his chest. And there was just so much of him; I took my time.
I let my fingers rise and fall over the ripple of his taught abs – he was holding himself over me, after all. I brushed back his hair so I could watch his eyes darken with lust. When he discovered, and subsequently tantalized, all my sensitive areas, my fingers kneaded themselves into his broad back, desperately trying to find an anchor to hole through the tidal wave that was building in my body.
He planted kisses down my neck and out toward both shoulders, but when I started to work the button and zipper on his jeans, he grabbed my hand and pinned it over my head. "Not yet," he growled. "I wanna hear you beg for it." He'd seemed so sweet at the bar, but damn if this wasn't sexier. His mouth found its way to one of my breasts I paused, arching in pleasure as he worked the nipple with his tongue and just the slightest bit of teeth, generously attending to the other with his hand.
I bit back a moan, but when his other hand found its way between my legs I couldn't hold it back anymore. I whined and bucked as he worked me. He pushed my knees further apart and replaced his talented fingers with his even more talented tongue. "Sam," I breathed, clutching the bed sheets in clenched fists. "I-" his tongue was dancing inside me – goddamn pirouettes – and my whole body begged for release.
"Want me to stop?" he teased, undoubtedly aware of the havoc he was wreaking.
"No!" I exclaimed a little too loudly, and he chuckled mischievously.
"Well, you know what I want to hear," he taunted, once again resuming his work. How he managed to keep me so close to the edge, backing off at just the right (or wrong, from my perspective) moment to keep me from going over, I had no idea.
"Please," I begged, desperate for him to end the delectable torture. His hands seemed to be everywhere on me at once and I was trembling from the fiery trail they left.
"Please what?" I gasped as he took my body to new heights.
Please, Sam," I whispered. "I need you inside me." He smiled victoriously and finally, finally kicked off his pants. I reached out and stroked his considerable length, but he was already hard for me. I guided him to my entrance but he paused there, relishing the torturous friction at the sensitive opening. I whimpered and squeezed my eyes shut, desperately trying to hold on.
"Open your eyes, Lana." I did as I was told and was struck by how he was looking at me; the hunger was still there, but it was more than that. Precious. That was the only word that came to mind. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, tucking my sweat-soaked hair behind my ear. I didn't have time to respond before he kissed me deeply, sheathing himself to the hilt between my legs.
He pulled back when I gasped, checking to make sure I was still okay. I nodded wordlessly, pulling his lips back to mine. He was bigger than I was used to – in every sense of the word – and filled me completely, but we seemed to fit together perfectly.
Slow at first, his thrusts came faster and faster until his warm manhood spilled into me and we both came together in a cry of unbelievable satisfaction.
We were both sweaty and breathing hard, riding out wave after wave of pleasure. Still inside me, he rested his head on my bare chest as I combed my fingers through his long hair. He gently stroked my thigh up and down, sending tingles along my hyper-sensitive skin.
We fell asleep like that, wrapped up in each other. If I wasn't careful, I thought I could be happy spending my whole life there. But he was a hunter, and I had decided to leave that behind – the pain, the loss, the fear – long ago. So I enjoyed my last hours of perfection before the sun rose and the real world began again.